


Black Flag of Erebor

by nightchaser_sla



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightchaser_sla/pseuds/nightchaser_sla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins, confirmed bachelor, has lived his entire life among the rolling hills and dales of the Shire. However nobody is allowed on or off the island, and to do so means to ruin your entire reputation and that of your family past and present. Not that this stops Merchant Sailor Gandalf from trying to convince him to join a Pirate King from the East on a quest for his stolen ship. </p><p>Thorin Oakenshield is the rightful King to the Ereborian fleet. Well he would be if that bloody traitor Smaug hadn't run off with the flagship of his fleet, forcing Thorin to chase him across all the seas of Middle Earth in pursuit. It's not just a ship though, oh no The Arkenstone is sentient and she wants her Master back, for she is the only one who can return this mortal back into the Sea God that he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ways of the Shire

_‘Don’t go near the cliffs to the east.’_

These were words drilled into every fauntling from birth. An order that very few dared to  go against, and those that did were labelled trouble makers or worse amongst the settlers of the Shire. For Hobbits were gentlefolk who cared more about what their neighbours new curtains looked like than they did the world outside of their own little island.

They had come from the far north over two hundred years ago. From lands where they had been well known for being able to grow almost anything in the craggy outcropping and near inhospitable mountain ranges. When they had been displaced by the hoardes of Orcs roaming through the icy lands of the north many died on the boats that took them to their safe haven. Those that had survived made it their goal to make sure that nothing would ever scare them from their homes again. That meant that none were allowed to leave and strangers were looked upon with distrust.

Bilbo Baggins had once been deemed a troublemaker. A tween who didn’t know his place and would often be found skirting their boundaries to the East, searching for elves in the thick woods that became forests as far as the eye could see. He had always been more Took than Baggins, with a great desire for adventure and an even greater thirst for knowledge. By the time he was in his thirties he had taught himself how to speak Sindarian … the language of the elves, and was given a wide berth by Hobbits his own age. With no friends to speak of Bilbo remained at home with his parents until their deaths during the Fell Winter, and then he hid himself away as a confirmed bachelor.

He no longer travelled. No longer read books or maps from beyond the Shire, locking away all of his mother’s research on the many seas and lands other than their own.

It was then that Bilbo Baggins of the Shire became a gentlehobbit.

Which was why when a tall man, dressed in the traditional clothes of a Merchant Sailor, came striding down the lane from the east all that Bilbo could think to do was run into his smial with a squeak and slam the door closed. He knew that he wouldn’t be the only one doing as such, and in fact as he crouched down to peek through the kitchen window he noticed curtains twitching down the length of the lane.

The man, for he was a man, was so tall that the top of his black hat caught on the branches of the trees overhanging the lane. He appeared elderly, with a long grey beard down his blue buttoned up jacket and he used a shiny black cane to walk. Never before had such a man stepped foot inside of Hobbiton, certainly the Hobbits that lived and worked in the docks to the west were familiar with the both the sea merchants and those who were paid to protect them. However no man had ever been permitted to travel further than the docks themselves, and certainly nobody this far east had seen anything of the sort strolling so casually between their smials.

“Well what in the name of Yvanna could this mean?”

Bilbo whispered the words to himself, something he had found himself doing more and more around the empty rooms of Bag End. The sound of his front gate creaking open drew his attention to the fact that the sailor was now walking up his garden path, his cane tapping on the cobblestones as he did so. Now what in all of Middle Earth could such a person want with Bilbo Baggins of all Hobbits? But oh how the neighbours would talk, and it wasn’t only Hobbiton but soon all of the Shire would know and he would be considered ‘mad Baggins’ again by the likes of Bracegirdles and Proudfoots. He couldn’t let that happen, not when he had just started to repair his ruined reputation, and it was nice to actually have people look him in the eye when he was at the market

Standing to his full height, Bilbo straightened his burgundy waistcoat and pushed back his shoulders. He was going to have to put a stop to this.

Bilbo threw open the door just as the old man had raised his hand to knock on the newly painted wood, and without a word grabbed him by the coat and swung him back the way he had come. Placing his small hands against the much larger man’s back and started pushing back him back towards the gate.

“No.” Bilbo shook his head even though he knew the man couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing here, but you need to leave.”

“What?” There was an amused tone to the man’s voice. “Now I didn’t expect this kind of greeting from the son of Belladonna Took.”

At the mention of his mother’s name Bilbo froze. His uninvited guest swung around, knocking Bilbo lightly on his shins with his cane as he did so.

“How do you know my mother?”

With a _hmph_ the old sailor brushed past Bilbo to sit at the wooden bench beside the front door, where he drew a long pipe from his pocket.

“Do you have a light?” He held up the pipe. “I seem to have misplaced mine.”

Letting out a deep sigh Bilbo reached into his waistcoat pocket and brought out his little wooden box of matches. Settling himself on the bench beside the old man, Bilbo lit the match and the gestured for his companion to lean forwards so that he could light the pot for him.

“Are you going to tell me who you are?” Bilbo shook the match and placed it back in the box. “And how you knew my mother.”

For a long moment the man simply puffed away on his pipe, making intricate smoke circles in the still spring air.

“My name is Gandalf Grey.” He tapped his pipe on the bench’s arm. “And your mother accompanied me on many adventures in her youth.”

Running a hand through his light brown curls before looking up at Gandalf.

“My mother never so much as left the Shire.”

The smile that Gandalf graced him with was the kind that had a story behind it, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that made Bilbo’s stomach tie itself in knots.

“Oh Bilbo my boy.” Gandalf took another puff of his pipe. “The stories I have to tell you.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” said Bilbo.

“Because I have an adventure for you of course.”

Adventure? Bilbo felt a high pitched laugh come from his throat, and he quickly stuffed a fist into his mouth, the last thing he needed right now was to draw even more attention to himself.

“Oh no I don’t think so.” Bilbo shook his head. “There will be no adventures here thank you.”

The smile fell from Gandalf’s face then and his eyes turned cold.

“Come now dear fellow, aren’t you sick of being locked away in the Shire?”

“Absolutely not.” Bilbo jumped to his feet and pattered towards his open door. “There will be no adventures. Not today. Not ever.” He inclined his head towards Gandalf. “Good day.”

With that he slammed the door closed before the old man could even open his mouth to protest. Pressing his back against the wood he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as he tried to calm down his racing heart. A few minutes later he heard his gate shut and the sound of footsteps retreating down the lane.

And that was that.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be adding whole new chapters in during the editing process ... so this will probably end up exceeding 15 chapters

Captain Thorin Oakensheild had once been the most infamous pirate King to rule the far east. That had come to an end however when that traitorous scum Smaug had run off with the flagship of his fleet. Even now thinking about the _Arkenstone_ was enough to make his stomach roil in anger and his hand automatically moved to the hilt of Oricrist hanging at his hip.

If he ever saw that traitor again he would hang his head from the bow of the _Arkenstone_.

Not that his current ship the _Myrtle_ wasn’t a worthy vessel, and though smaller than the flagship she had faithfully carried them across the seas from Erebor. With a smile quirking the corner of his mouth Thorin stroked a hand over the wood railing, yes she was a loyal ship indeed.

“Captain.” His Second, Dwalin, strode up the stairs to the quarterdeck. “The Shire is in sight.”

With a sharp nod to the other man, Thorin held out his hand and was pleased when his spyglass was placed into it without any further words. It was nice when you had been working with someone for so long that you could understand each other without unnecessary conversation. If there was one thing that Thorin hated, it was unnecessary conversation.

Placing the spyglass to his eye Thorin found himself confronted with the first land they had come across in months. Though there were only high white cliffs as far as the eye could see.

“Is there a port anywhere?”

“Aye, only one but it’s on the west side of the island.”

Thorin scowled at Dwalin’s words.

“But the old man wanted us to meet him to the east.”

With a sigh he lowered the spyglass and handed it back to Dwalin.

“Aye.”

“So there must be a way onto the island up those cliffs.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at where his crew were going about their daily tasks.

“There’s nothing on the maps,” said Dwalin.

Thorin nodded absently. Even though his second knew that he couldn’t read a land map for all the treasure in Erebor it was something that neither of them ever spoke of. Thorin was a sailor through and through, just because he was perpetually lost while on land didn’t mean he was any less of a leader. It was just best if they didn’t advertise that particular fact to those that would take his crown from him, well not until he had taken the _Arkenstone_ back anyway.

“Doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.” Thorin tapped his heavily ringed fingers against his forearm. “Reefs?”

“Only towards the north.” Dwalin pointed towards where the cliffs had disappeared into the mist. “We should be fine.”

“Ok then bring us as close to the shoreline as you can, hopefully there’s a cove or something that nobody has bothered to map. Then we just need to figure out how to get up those cliffs.”

Dwalin was silent for a moment as he placed his huge hands on the railing and leaned over to look into the crystal clear seas that were typical of the west. “We could send the lads up.”

With a grunt Thorin turned to look down at the deck where he could see his nephews, both of them scrubbing the deck dark and light heads tipped together. As thick as thieves. It was true that if anyone aboard the _Myrtle_ was going to be able to climb up those formidable looking cliffs then it would be Fili and Kili. They were both young and lithe, neither of them having developed the bulk that was common of their people yet.

“I’m not sure I like that idea.”

He knew that the unease that was clawing at his gut was ridiculous, the Shire was known to be peaceful and without any enemies what so ever. Yet the idea of sending his heirs into a land all but unknown to their people didn’t sit well with them.

“It’s either that or we tunnel our way through.”

Being Dwarves that wasn’t an entirely impossible idea, however they had time restraints on them and they weren’t exactly carrying the necessary equipment for digging through that much stone.

“We don’t have time.”

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “No we don’t, not if we’re going to have you restored by Durin’s Day.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters may come a bit slower over the next few days as I'm back at work.

The knock on the door came just as Bilbo was settling down to his supper. It was a lovely rainbow trout, freshly caught that morning in the Brandywine by Hamfast Gamgee, his neighbour. Bilbo had been looking forward to eating it all day, there was nothing better than some grilled trout with lemon and roasted tomatoes. Therefore he only felt a moment of guilt when he considered ignoring whoever it was that was rude enough to go visiting at supper time, no Hobbit with any manners would even consider doing such a thing. Which meant that it was probably that shrew Lobelia Sackville-Baggins trying to steal his silverware again.

With a deep sigh, Bilbo tucked his napkin into his plaid pajamas and picked up his knife and fork. Let her stand on the stood in a huff, she was just going to have to wait for him to finish his supper. The strength and urgency of the knocking increased until Bilbo knew that there was no way he was going to be allowed to finish his supper in peace. It was with a frustrated groan that he stood up from his chair, throwing his napkin on the table and stomping down the front hall. Pushing back his shoulders and lifting his chin Bilbo threw open the door with a bang, however in the place of Lobelia stood two young men.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that Bilbo was well read and had been taught about the land beyond the Shire by his mother, he would never have known that they were Dwarves. One of them was taller than the other with a smooth face and long dark hair tied back with a piece of leather, he was also grinning from ear to ear despite the fact that he was leaning against the doorframe and putting all his weight on one leg. Even though he was quite obviously injured he seemed in good spirits. The man standing beside him was significantly shorter than his companion, with blond hair and a thick mustache all in braids. There were at least two swords at his back, and the moment that Bilbo opened the door he shouldered his way through to stand in the middle of the hallway, his muddied coat brushing the tiles

“Fili.”

He turned to bow at Bilbo, though his eyes were shifting rapidly around the smial as if he was looking for danger behind every bookshelf and beneath every doily.

“And Kili.” The young man still in the doorway bowed as far as he possibly could with his injuries. “At your service.”

“What?” Bilbo put it down to shock alone that he simply watched as the dark haired one, Kili, limped into his front hall and simply shut the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to meet the old man of course.” Fili had deposited his swords on Belladonna’s glory box, and was now supporting Kili’s weight. “And take you to our Uncle.”

“Gandalf.” Bilbo growled he name under his breath before tightening the belt on his nightgown. “And what have you done to your leg?”

Kili glanced down at himself as though he had only just noticed that he was limping. “Oh I just fell down the cliff.”

“Cliff?” Bilbo waved them into the kitchen and all but forced the Dwarf onto the bench. “What cliff?”

“The one on the eastern cove.”

Fili pointed roughly in the direction of the cove, a move that made Bilbo’s heart sink in his chest. After Gandalf’s visit he had known that this adventure, or whatever it was, involved men from the east and though he hadn’t imagined they would be dwarves it wasn’t a complete surprise. After all the far east was the domain of the dwarves. However the thought that they were here already, just off the coast of the eastern cliffs was a terrifying prospect. The Shire had never seen anything of the sort in its two centuries.

“Please tell me that’s it’s just the two of you here.”

“For the time being Mr. Boggins.” Kili’s grin was completely disarming, and Bilbo could tell that he was used to getting his own way a lot. “Though Uncle is likely to storm the cliffs when he discovers I’ve been injured.”

“You’ve twisted your ankle you idiot,” said Fili.

Kili simply glared at the other dwarf. “I could have lost my leg.”

“Here let me have a look at that ankle.” Bilbo settled himself at the other end of the bench to Kili and gestured for the young dwarrow to rest his leg on it. “And I don’t care who your Uncle is but he’s not storming anything, not here in the Shire.”

“You’re being awfully forward Mr. Boggins.” Kili gave him a wink before rolling up his trouser leg and carefully removing his filthy leather boot. “And you haven’t even asked for my kin's right to court me.”

Immediately Bilbo felt warmth come to his cheeks and he had to clear his throat of the embarrassment that seemed to have formed a lump there. Certainly he had noticed how both these dwarves were very good looking, so different to a Hobbit that there was almost a sense of the exotic about them. Relationships between males was something that just wasn’t done in the Shire and as such was one of the main reasons why Bilbo had remained a bachelor all these years. He couldn’t believe that this youngling had read his proclivities so quickly and accurately.

“You would be so lucky to court such a comely creature.” Fili’s deep baritone filled the kitchen, and if Bilbo had been able to blush anymore he would spontaneously combust. “Now Master Baggins what is the diagnosis?”

Bilbo forced his attention back on the slender ankle resting on his kitchen bench, frowning at the mottling of bruises that he saw there. However a quick prod and squeeze of the joint revealed it to be in fine working order, though a little stiff and painful.

“Just sprained.” He stood up quickly and walked through Bag End to the bathroom to retrieve the bandages his mother had always kept there, gathering them up and then returning to the kitchen. Whilst he had been gone the boys had managed to eat his supper and were shaking out the biscuits from the jar he kept on the windowsill. “I’ll just bandage it up and after a few hours rest it should be fine.”

“Thank you kindly Mr. Boggins.” Kili’s mouth was full of biscuit and he showered the table and Bilbo’s curls with crumbs. “Are we staying here tonight then?”

The very idea of what the neighbours would say if he kicked two young dwarrows out in the middle of the night made Bilbo shudder. No the best thing would be to sneak them out in the morning when he went to collect the eggs, even better if Gandalf turned up and whisked them away with him. The old man had better come, Bilbo wanted an explanation for this madness and he wanted one as soon as possible.

In the mean time he had two ravenous young dwarves in his kitchen, and if nothing else Bilbo Baggins knew how to be a good host.


End file.
